


Healing Touch

by Karla_Writes



Series: SouMako Week [6]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dystopia, Fantasy, M/M, Magic-Users, Slow Romance, Theocracy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:58:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2487023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karla_Writes/pseuds/Karla_Writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desperate for a way to return to the place he was taken away from, Makoto seeks the help of a mercenary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Touch

**Author's Note:**

> SouMako Week Days 6&7 - Touch / ~~Sight~~ and Free Prompt
> 
> I am very late, but here is the first part to the ending of my SouMako Week fics. I combined Touch, from day 6, and the free prompt, which I chose to make a Fantasy AU. This fic grew more than expected, so I had to split it into two parts.
> 
> Inspired by 3 particular games: Fire Emblem:PoR, Tales of Symphonia, and The Last Story.

The tavern was nestled in-between two long abandoned building, reached only through a dank, poorly lit alley. On the side of its chipping wooden door, hung an old sign that read, “Crow’s Nest.” Crow was the name of the middle-aged man who owned the tavern. He, along with his wife and son, welcomed everyone into their tavern, but had no qualms in disposing of troublesome patrons. The tavern, with its faded walls and strong liquor, was frequented by low-class workmen, rogues, bandits, and, most importantly, by mercenaries. Groups of men and women gathered here in order to drink away their earning, or to offer their services to those folk desperate enough to enter the Crow’s Nest.

Makoto Tachibana was one such desperate individual, in search of a particular mercenary. 

Makoto sat with his back to the wall, his hands around a glass of a liquid that smelled strongly of citrus and something spicy. A single sip told him that it would be best if he nursed the drink for all the time he was allowed to remain inside the rowdy tavern before getting thrown out. He watched with wide eyes as a man three tables down from him fell out of his chair in a drunken stupor, all to the great amusement of his companions. To his right and two tables away, a woman dressed in heavy armor had a man in a headlock. To his left, a fight broke out. Screams and battle cries reached his ears as two men, both highly intoxicated, used their brute strength against each other. Makoto felt compelled to do something, but found himself rooted to his chair. 

Just as one man pulled out a large, curved dagger and the other reached for his axe, a strong gust of wind threw them both to the ground. Makoto easily recognized the spell, his eyes landing on the petite woman with long ebony hair that was glaring down at the two men, a black tome with green markings clutched to her chest. Makoto watched on as a well-built young man stepped through a door from behind the bar, and easily clutched the two men by their shirts before he tossed them out of the tavern. 

This was who Makoto was looking for. 

The young man, possibly his same age, was the one Father Sasabe had told him to find. 

Makoto stood as soon as the man walked past his table, and nearly tripped over the hem his cloak.

“A-a word, please.” He croaked, unable to keep his voice from shaking. The man stopped and turned to face Makoto, mouth set in a thin line and eyes unfazed by any emotion.

After he received no word from the man, Makoto continued, “I was told that the son of Crow was in need of someone to help him reach Iwatobi. You are him, are you not?” Makoto was glad his voice held strong this time.

The man’s eyes grew a little, but they returned to their cold state immediately. 

“And, who the hell are you?” Makoto flinched back at the gruff voice. The man’s eyes narrowed into slits. 

“M-my name is Tachibana Makoto, F-Father Sasabe of—” 

“You’re a _priest_?” The words were said with such disgust, Makoto cringed and his hands trembled even more. 

“N-no, I’m not… it’s a ra-rather long story…” Makoto mumbled, he was quickly losing his nerve. Perhaps, he should look elsewhere for a solution to his predicament. The noisy atmosphere of the tavern grew in intensity, sending Makoto on edge. 

“Come with me, but be warned, one false move and I won’t hesitate to strike you down, _Priest_.” 

Makoto looked up in time to see the man walking in the direction of the bar. With fumbling fingers, he picked up his satchel and hurried after the man, not even bothering to correct him again.

.

Through the door was a set of stairs that led to a surprisingly cozy room. It was heavily decorated with various paintings, tapestries, wooden carvings, and bronze figurines. A fireplace was situated on the opposite side of where Makoto was standing, lit and providing much needed warmth to Makoto. He had not been in a place with one since he left the Church.

Makoto stood awkwardly as the man sat down in a wooden chair several feet away from him. 

“What is someone like you doing here?” The man’s voice was stern.

“I’ve come in order to offer my assistance to the son of Crow,” The glare sent his way didn’t deter him this time, “I am no good with a sword, nor do I have much skill with a bow, lance, or axe, but I can do magic… and I am well adept in the healing arts.” This caught the man’s attention. 

“So, you are indeed a priest?” The contempt was still there, but to a lesser degree. 

Makoto shook his head, “No, I am not.”

“Then how can you—” Makoto held his hand up in order to cut off the rest of the words. He was growing a little frustrated with the black-haired man. 

“I’ve been raised in the Church for a large part of my life. There they taught me all about how to use magic and about the healing arts. You see…” Makoto paused, chewing on his bottom lip. What he wanted to say next was a little difficult to explain. A demonstration would surely be more suitable. 

“I’ll show you the reason of why I was taken to the Church.” As he said this, Makoto reached into his cloak and pulled out a small knife. Its hilt was a deep red and the double-edged blade was made of durable steel. It was the only weapon Makoto carried with him. The man threw him a look that easily read “you-better-remember-what-I-said.”

Taking a deep breath, Makoto removed his satchel and cloak. He carefully pulled up the sleeve of his robes just far enough to reveal his wrist. Feeling the heavy gaze of the man, Makoto dragged the sharp blade across his wrist, easily drawing blood. He heard the scraping of the wooden chair against the floor and an alarmed, “What are you doing?!” 

“Watch.” Was all Makoto said before he dropped the knife and held his other hand against his wound. His hand glowed a soft white. He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly through his nose when he felt the wound begin to close. It didn’t sting, or anything, it just felt as if his skin was stretching and pinching together. 

He opened them again when the sensation ended. A soft gasp left his lips when he saw that the other man was right in front of him, his wide, teal eyes glued onto Makoto’s still glowing hand. When Makoto removed the hand from above his wrist the glowing came to an end and revealed the healed wound. 

“How…” The man breathed out, turning confused eyes toward Makoto. 

Makoto shrugged his shoulders, offering the baffled man a small smile. The man’s expression was too amusing and Makoto couldn’t stop himself from reacting to it, even if he was still nervous.

“I have been able to do this ever since I can remember. Because of this,” Makoto flexed his fingers, “the Church took me from my home. That’s why…that’s why I will help you in any way I can in order for you to reach Iwatobi. I don’t have much, but I can also offer you a bit of gold. Just, please, allow me to accompany you.” Makoto bent his body forward, desperate to reunite with his hometown, with his nearly-forgotten family. 

The silence that fell between them was the longest Makoto had ever experienced. His palms itched and his legs felt restless. The harsh thumping of his heart echoed inside his ears and his throat tightened. 

“I’d be a fool to turn you away now that I know what you are capable of, but you escaped from the Church, right? So, aren’t they looking for you?” 

Makoto’s smile fell. 

“Y-yes, they are.”

“And, won’t you going back to where they first found you be dangerous? Wouldn’t that be the first place they’d look?” 

Makoto swallowed around the lump quickly forming in his throat. 

“P-probaby… but you shouldn’t concern yourself with that. As soon as we reach Iwatobi, you won’t hear or see from me again. Please, I promise no trouble will come out of it for you.” Makoto kept his head down, eyes squeezed shut. The silence dragged on and with it Makoto’s hope of making it out of this wretched city.

“Fine. Like I said, I’d be a fool to turn you away now. I will depart in two days. Come here before dawn prepared to leave. Understood, Prie—Tachibana, was it?”

Makoto straightened his back, mouth slightly agape. When the other raised a brow in question, Makoto nodded fiercely. 

He would finally get away, he would finally reclaim his own path. Finally he could begin to live his own life.

…

They departed as the sun began its trek over the horizon. Yamazaki Sousuke, the name of his new companion, stayed silent for the first few hours of their journey. A journey they would make mostly on foot, since acquiring horses would be too expensive. Makoto had asked Sousuke how long he thought their journey would take. After consideration, Sousuke replied in a dry tone that he’d heard the trip by horseback lasted about ten days, so it would take them at least twice as long as that.

Makoto had stayed silent after that. 

A particularly strong gust of wind rattled the branches overhead and nipped at Makoto’s face. The woods they were trekking through were beginning to lose their greenish coloring. The reddened leaves littered the ground and the branches of the tall trees appeared dull and listless. Winter was fast approaching. 

“We won’t make it to the next town today. Let’s set up camp around here for tonight.” The gruff voice pulled him away from his assessment of the rapidly dying vegetation.

With a nod, they traveled until Sousuke found a spot he deemed safe enough to rest for the evening. Here the trees were thicker and closely condensed. It was nothing compared to a warm bed, but at least they weren’t out in the open. The roads leading to the city they left behind were distance away.

They argued over whether or not a fire was necessary, Makoto insisted it was while Sousuke declared it was too dangerous. They could be easily spotted by the smoke, Sousuke said in an irritated tone that left Makoto frowning. Sousuke was right, of course, but would he always carry with him that sour disposition?

“It’s not even that cold.” He heard the other mutter. Makoto glanced over at Sousuke, who was settling down against the trunk of a tree, still wearing his black plated armor. He wondered if the armor provided him with more coverage against the gusting winds. If it did, he was no one to talk about it not being that cold. 

“Of course, you’ve been living a pampered life with the Church so long, you’ve probably never experienced a true winter.” The disdain in Sousuke’s voice grew with each word. Makoto fought the urge to get up and walk away. To where, he didn’t know, but having a traveling companion so fixed in hating him for no reason was not at all something he had signed up for. Especially, when he was providing Sousuke with help.

“A pampered life I never asked for.” Makoto turned his eyes toward Sousuke, jaw tensed with thinly veiled anger. 

“Winters in Iwatobi are harsh. The crops die and we are left to scavenge what we can in order to survive. Most of the animals leave, and those people with weak constitution don’t make it through the season. Looters, most of which were dressed in Imperial uniforms, ransack the smaller villages and leave people with nothing. I never understood why they only did this during the winter. Now, I know. People are too weak to fight back when they are starving and freezing to death.” Makoto was panting by the end, his hands trembling against his lap. He looked away from Sousuke’s shocked expression, his chest heaving from the boiling anger under his skin. This anger was not geared toward Sousuke. It was for the blurry faces of those who came and took what they pleased. For those who took everything his parents had worked so hard to gain, not caring that they were slowly killing away the people they were supposed to protect. 

When the Church heard of him, of his strange ability, they came during one such cruel winter. 

As another chilly current of wind passed through the woods, Makoto closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the rough bark of the tree, hoping that he was tired enough to fall asleep quickly. 

It could have been his imagination, or the deceiving sounds of the woods, but he thought that right before he fell into unconsciousness a murmured apology left Sousuke’s lips.

Neither of them spoke of what had happened that night, but the next day Makoto found a blanket made of fur that was not his, draped over his body, and Sousuke’s voice was no longer laced in acid when he spoke to Makoto.

…

“Tickets to the Coliseum, half price for the next hour!”

“Pelts, at a great price for the upcoming winter!” 

“Jewelry, precious stones, and hand-crafted ornaments for that special someone!” 

Makoto looked around in amazement at all the make-shift stands surrounding the streets. Merchants of all ages were showcasing their products at the top of their voices, trying to gain the attention of all those who roamed the market. 

“There’s got to be at least one inn around here.” He heard Sousuke mutter. He was about to suggest they ask a local when a scantily clad woman approached them, blocking their way.

“Are you handsome gentlemen, looking for a bit of entertainment?” The woman smiled slyly, fluttering her long eyelashes. Makoto’s face flushed upon realizing what the woman was offering. He took a step back, bumping into Sousuke’s side. 

“O-oh, n-no, we’re j-just—”

“A tempting offer, milady, but I am escorting this priest to the Church in Matsumoto,” when he said this he opened the front of Makoto’s cloak, revealing the white and silver robes he wore underneath. Makoto held back the squeak of surprise at having the other’s hands on him, and then grew weary at the withering look the woman sent his way. 

“A Priest, huh? Too bad, we coulda had fun.” She said this while looking up at Sousuke, a grin taking over her mouth. 

“Tell me, milady, is there an inn nearby?” Makoto looked away, not being able to stomach Sousuke’s irritatingly forced smile, or that fake friendly tone. Or, was it fake at all? The sight of a beautiful young woman perhaps put Sousuke in a better mood. He was a man, after all, but then so was Makoto. Yet, to him the physical appearance of the woman did not pique his interest at all. Could it be because of the Church’s influence in his life, or… something else entirely? 

Just as his face began to redden once more, a strong hand pulled him along. 

“I didn’t think seeing a woman like that would affect you this much.” The words weren’t mocking or cruel, but they still caused Makoto to drown in embarrassment. 

“No, i-it’s not…” _her_ , Makoto caught himself before saying that last word. He looked away when Sousuke’s eyes bore into his.

.

“Why did you tell that woman that I was a priest?” Makoto asked as he sat down on his neatly made bed. They’d arrived at the only inn available for travelers in the town of Ueda shortly before nightfall. The inn was large, with a bustling cafeteria, a good-sized training ground, which was used by those travelers who came to compete in the local coliseum, and even included a communal bath that was run by two mages.

“By this time, I’m sure the Church is looking for you, and even if they suspect what your destination will be, they don’t know what route you’ll take. When rumor spreads that a priest came through here, most will say you were heading to the city of Matsumono. Even if they catch on to the lie, they wouldn’t risk not checking that city as well, since it’s the shortest route to Iwatobi. We, on the other hand, will travel through Ina, it’s longer and a bit more dangerous, but we’ll at least get a head start.” 

As Sousuke explained this he began to peel off his armor. It occurred to Makoto then that it was the first time he’d seen the other man without it on. Underneath the heavy looking armor, Sousuke’s body was big. The man had broad shoulders and a wide, muscular chest that was barely hidden by the cotton material of his shirt. Even though, Makoto was only a few inches shorter than Sousuke, the mercenary seemed larger and much taller. Inside the Church Makoto had been kept under watchful supervision, but he had been able to sneak in some training exercises while under the guidance of Father Sasabe. He had developed a moderately strong body, but had never had the chance to learn any hand-to-hand combat, or even how to wield a sword. 

After a few more casual words between them, they lay down on their separate beds and quickly succumbed to sleep. The noise from the nightlife of the town didn’t faze either of them, both were far too exhausted to care. 

They left the lively town of Ueda the following morning after a hearty breakfast – meat had been served, oh, how long he had gone without meat – and a quick trip to the bathhouse. The bathhouse was situated to the left of the inn, reached only through a narrow, man-made, stone hallway that connected the two. The water had been clean and warm, thanks to the well-practiced magic of the two mages. 

“It’ll be a while until we reach another town like this one, are you sure you got everything you need?” Sousuke’s question came before they crossed over the border of Ueda. 

“I’ve got everything.”

With that they set off in the early morning sun toward the road that would lead them closer to Makoto’s hometown.

…

Makoto awoke with a start when he felt hands descend upon his body. His mouth opened, but he was unable to scream when a rough hand pressed itself against his lips. His eyes, unfocused and still full of sleep, shifted in every direction to try and make sense of what was happening. His heart stopped when he saw the fuzzy image of Sousuke struggling in the ground, two large men pinning him down.

“We’ll get ourselves one tasty reward for this one, don’t you think so, men?” A depraved voice sounded off from behind Makoto as the hand around his waist tightened painfully. Rowdy laughter followed that statement. 

“What about him here?” One of the men holding Sousuke down asked, his pudgy face dirtied and riddled with scars. 

“Kill’em. We’re only after the Priest.” A shiver of dread raced down Makoto’s back and his entire body began to tremble. The group of men… of monsters, howled and jeered. Makoto closed his eyes and willed the sound around him to disappear. The words of the ancient language he’d fervently studied flowed through his mind. He connected his mind, his body, and his soul with the restless Spirits inhabiting the forest. He repeated the words, words that formed an intricate spell that seduced the Spirits, and heard when a sharp clap of thunder rang out. The hands around him loosened and he broke free, silently reciting the spells he had memorized. He targeted a fire spell to one of the men holding Sousuke down and watched as Sousuke leapt to his feet. 

There were four men left standing, all of them wielding weapons. 

“Stay behind me.” Sousuke barked out as he stood his ground, shielding Makoto with his body. He didn’t have his sword with him, Makoto noticed. How did he plan on beating the others? Just as the men advanced on them, Makoto recited the most powerful spell he knew by memory. He faintly heard the boisterous cheering of the Spirits before a strong gust of wind mingled with scathing flames of fire engulfed the remaining men. They didn’t even have time to scream before the fire disposed of them. 

His head spun and throbbed, and Makoto fell to his knees. 

He looked up when a hand fell on his shoulder. Sousuke’s eyes were wide, and Makoto briefly wondered if he was afraid of him. His eyes then fell on a patch of red slowly growing from behind Sousuke’s breastplate. 

“You’re injured.” Makoto reached out and dragged Sousuke down to his level. His head was pounding terribly and his hands shook as he tried to remove the man’s armor. Sousuke’s hands replaced Makoto’s when his only fumbled. 

The bloody gash underneath Sousuke’s shirt ran vertically along Sousuke’s ribcage, in an area the armor plates didn’t cover. Ignoring the headache, Makoto gently pressed his hand against the wound. His hand immediately glowed white and the gash slowly began to close. He heard Sousuke hiss at the sensation as he ran his hand down the wound, effectively healing it. 

“That should…” Makoto trailed off, his eyes growing heavy.

He felt Sousuke’s hands on his shoulders and saw his lips form around words he couldn’t hear, before everything went black.

**Author's Note:**

> Next part will explain all the mess I came up with for this fic. Hope it's not too confusing! Also the towns mentioned in the fic are actual places in Japan. I'm using a map of Japan to guide myself lol. Basically they are travelling from Tokyo to Iwatobi (which is Iwami in the map of Japan), just a little FYI.
> 
> Forgot to add, "Crow's Nest" is run by Sousuke's parents, in case that wasn't clear.
> 
> Next chapter will be posted tomorrow, unless anything comes up.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
